


The Complications of Being in Love

by gooseberry



Series: The Kingdom [8]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Arranged Marriage, Durin Family Feels, Gen, Love, Mother-Son Relationship, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooseberry/pseuds/gooseberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for another prompt on my tumblr: <b>Can you please write about Fili and the relationship between Kili and Dwalin from his point of view? I'm interested in what he thinks about it</b></p>
<p>Fili and Dis talk about Kili, Dwalin, and how princes should love. It's all family loyalty and familial love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Complications of Being in Love

“Will they get married?” Fili asks her abruptly. Dis blinks as she looks up at him, then looks back down at the metalwork she is holding in her lap.

“Who?” she asks, though she’s certain she does not need to ask. Dwalin had just arrived in Ered Luin a week before, and the house is still in an uproar (and, she thinks, Kili is still looking far too enamored).

“Kili and Dwalin,” Fili says, and Dis sighs, a little disappointed that she was right.

“No,” she says slowly, “if things go well, they won’t be.” She fiddles with the chain’s clasp, then lays the necklace down. Fili is fidgeting beside her, clearly uncomfortable, and he deserves nothing less than her undivided attention. “Why,” she asks, as she looks up at him again, “do you ask?”

Fili shrugs, looking away, but when she says nothing, he grimaces and sinks down to sit on the floor beside her chair.

“It’s just,” Fili says, “that Kili seems to like him, and--” Fili hesitates again, then blurts, “I think he loves him. Dwalin, I mean. That Kili loves Dwalin.”

And that is the crux of the problem. Dis turns her chair, the chair legs scraping against the floor, then grabs Fili by the shoulders. She can feel Fili’s shoulders go tight and tense, but she pays it no mind--just tugs until Fili is scooting over and back, until he’s sitting right in front of her. When he’s sitting where she wants him, she pets his shoulders gently, then grabs one of his braids, taking out the clasp.

“Love,” she says as she unwinds his braids, “is complicated.”

Fili is quiet, most certainly thinking of what she’s said. Dis waits patiently, pulling all of Fili’s hair free, then running her fingers through it to unknot Fili’s tangles. 

“You don’t think it’s good,” Fili says slowly, and Dis says,

“I don’t love your father.” She runs her fingers through his hair once more, then sets her thumbs against his skull, rubbing her thumbs in small, tight circles. Fili sighs heavily, like a cat that is being scratched behind the ears, and Dis smiles to herself. “Love is complicated, and it is better when you don’t love the person you marry,” she tells him. “If you were someone else, then perhaps--but you are the king’s nephew. Your loyalties lie with your family.”

“Of course.” Fili says it quietly, and Dis can hear the disappointment in his voice. He is still so very young, and Kili is even younger. Dis rubs Fili’s head with her fingers, scratching at his scalp lightly.

“Loving your blood is enough,” she says gently. Perhaps she has spoiled her boys too much, perhaps she has given them too many dreams and expectations. “You should love first your uncle, and then yourself, and finally your brother.”

“And that’s all?” Fili asks her, and Dis hums a yes. Fili sighs, then says, “Kili won’t be able to do that.”

“No,” Dis says, “he won’t, and he’ll hurt for it.” She runs her fingers across his scalp one last time, then pulls his hair back into a thick bunch, wrapping it around her hand. His hair is the color of gold and wheat and amber, dozens of shades of yellow, and it is beautiful. She loves him for his hair, for his sturdiness, for his unfailing loyalty and love; most of all she loves him for himself, for how he sits at her feet, quiet and patient, and watches days come and go. 

“Is that why,” Fili asks when she is idly braiding his hair, “you hate Dwalin?”

“Yes.” Dis catches a few stray hairs and tucks them into the heavy plait. “And no,” she adds, allowing, “He means well. I think he would try to do well by Kili.”

“But,” Fili says.

“But,” Dis says as well. She holds the thick plait of hair for a moment, like a golden rope, and she says, “Your hair is beautiful, Fili.”

She can hear Fili’s laugh, breathy and far too short. She tickles the back of Fili’s neck with the ends of his braid, then lets go of the braid. The braid holds together for only a few moments before it begins to fall loose, his hair too smooth and too heavy to stay plaited without a clasp. 

“And Kili’s?” Fili asks, and Dis says,

“You’re asking a great many questions about him.”

Fili shrugs, and Dis can only wonder what look is on Fili’s face. Curiosity, perhaps, or concern; maybe embarrassment, or even the sly-eyed look Fili has whenever he is playing at being a trickster.

“It’s rare for him to not be holding onto your skirts,” Fili says, and Dis snorts and cuffs the top of Fili’s head.

“And you?” she asks. “I haven’t seen you leave the house in a week at least. I’ve tripped over you more than I have the cats.”

Fili bumps his shoulder against her knee with a grunt, and Dis ducks her head so she can hide her smile in Fili’s hair. “I’ll go back to the forge, then,” Fili grumbles, and Dis chokes back her laugh before Fili can hear it and be hurt.

“It’s been wonderful,” she says into Fili’s hair, “to have you home so much.”

Her words must appease him, because he leans back against her knees heavily and says, “I love you.”

Fili is reserved in his affections, as reserved as Dis herself. Kili loves and hates on a whim, and exclaims it all to anyone who will listen, but Fili is quiet on his affections, and grows more so every year. Fili has not said that he loves her in weeks, and his words make her heart sting.

“And I,” she says calmly, as though he was a cat, flighty and uncontrollable, “love you.” 

Fili’s laugh is only a breathy chuckle, far too short, and Dis wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly. She can remember when he was a baby, small and fat and utterly perfect--it is strange, that he is taller than her now, that his hands are broader than hers, and that his beard is thicker than hers. 

It is a strange thing, she thinks, to watch children grow.

“Our family,” she whispers, “needs nothing else. We are strongest when we are together.”

“Kili will never,” Fili says, and he’s wrapped his hands around Dis’s forearms. Dis squeezes tighter, like she could lift him up if she wanted, like she could throw him in the air, or tickle him into submission, or just hold him like she could when he was a baby.

“That,” she says, “is why we will love him with all our hearts.”


End file.
